Let me introduce you to Ms Emily Jones, 28-years-young, and whose
striking features are: her straight russet coloured hair, which hangs
below her shoulders, and olive green eyes, for which she has a need to
wear glasses; rose tinted ones to be precise.
Emily works as a manageress for a packing company, and on the particular
day that the following events transpired, there was, among other
things, a very important order that needed to be packed, ready for
shipping.
Unable, herself, to make sure the workmen were keeping up to speed and
not making mistakes with the inventory, Emily sent Roxanne, her
24-year-old supervisor, to oversee things and keep an eye on them.
"Come to give us a hand, Roxy?" Steve joked, upon seeing her.
"We'll be lucky, right, Rox," exclaimed Nigel cheekily.
"You just get on with your work," she told them all, before giving
Trevor a furtive wink.
"Emily's sent me to keep an eye on you lot; make sure you don't repeat
the same mistake as last time with Braithwaite's order," she reminded
them, almost jokingly.
"Oh yeah, that was kinda funny and odd," Alan remarked, with a wry grin,
upon recalling the mix up.
"Don't blame me," chimed Zeak, the black employee. "It wasn't my fault
that I read a poorly written 7 as a 1, on the order for that particular
item.
"Don't worry, big guy," remarked Roxanne, of his stature and height,
"the orders are all automated now, so you'll have no worries," she
assured him.
Overseeing them for an additional five minutes, Roxanne, Trevor having
already done so, made her excuse and went looking for her more than
fellow colleague.
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